The Pearl and the Angels

The Pearl and the Angels

Two crescent moons –
on the seagull’s sunlit underwings.
And Bob Marley crosses the street –
on the man’s T-shirt.
My backpack tips sideways
on the small chair in this newly found Mexican “hole in the wall”,
where “Marley” also puts in his food request, then heads across the street.

The caring counter man, perhaps “el jefe” here,
apologized profusely when he didn’t have vegetarian soup for me.
“Marley” has returned to retrieve his meals.
Now sauntering out, his full order crackling the plastic bag,
backward black cap swaying with his gait,
he crosses into
the whitewashed alley.

Picking up the last corner of burrito from my plate,
faces of courteous strangers met today mingle with the last rays of day:
The solicitous security guard, wishing me well – out of the blue;
then helping me find the city information center.
The woman serving there, who treated me royally.
Here, in the cozy “La Perla” restaurant, kindness again has played out –
Washing away the false images mass media portray of an uncaring humanity.